It All Comes Out
by prosebeforehos
Summary: Mary and Matthew's romance has been defined by miscommunication, secrets and bad timing. When Edith witnesses something that she was never meant to see it sets in motion a chain of events that may put the two lovers back on the path towards each other.
1. Chapter 1

Edith noted with interest that Mary seemed to be acting rather cold and distant with her supposed fiancee Sir Richard Carlise. She knew that it wasn't a love match, of course. The theory that she was only marrying him for his money was widely accepted. Besides how could it be a love match when Mary was still clearly devoted to Matthew? Anyone could see the despairing love in her eyes when she looked at him. Except for Matthew, naturally. Though the two of them seem to have become quite close again since Mary had nursed him when he returned from France with his spine damaged, leaving him unable to walk. Certainly there was often an air of awkwardness between them, but they still spent most of their time together.

Edith wondered if their rekindled friendship was the reason why Mary suddenly seemed so hesitant with Sir Richard. Sir Richard, in turn, seemed to have no idea why Mary was practically avoiding him. Edith and Mary had hardly become bosom-buddies, but since the war started they had both put their differences aside and grown temperately fond of each other. So it worried Edith to see that as the night went on his agitation was becoming more apparent and more severe to those who observed closely enough.

After their father's attention had been turned away Sir Richard subtly hissed something in Mary s ear and she blanched, quickly following him out of the room. Partially out of concern and also out of curiosity (the war hadn t changed everything) Edith followed, pausing at the threshold of the room Sir Richard and Mary had gone into.

"What the bloody hell is going on here Mary? This is the first time I ve seen you since we announced our engagement, which was months ago, and you've barely spoken twenty words to me this evening. Most of which were half-heartedly mumbled about the weather!"

"WE did not announce our engagement. YOU announced it and I read about it in the morning papers," she replied with typical Mary indignation.

"If that is why you have been cold with me you are more of a ridiculous woman than I thought. You agreed to marry me. I do not need to ask your permission before announcing it. I do not need to ask your permission or inform you about anything!"

"I just wish I'd had some time..."

"Some time for what?" he interrupted, raising his voice.

"Time to deal with doubts!"

"Doubts?" he snickered, "Oh Mary, quite contrary, you sold your right to doubts when you came begging me for help in silencing that Bates woman."

"And so you own me? Am I to be your slave, trading in one blackmailer for another?" she asked trying to sound haughty and in control, but with the fear clearly seeping into her voice.

He pushed her brusquely against the wall forcing Mary to release a small yelp in pain and shock. "Yes, I own you. You have given me the power to destroy you and don't think I won't use it. You asked me to save your family from scandal by keeping the story of your disgusting affair with the Turkish diplomat out of the papers and in doing so you sold yourself to me. I saved you and your family makes me rather a knight in shining armor doesn t it? Don t you feel indebted to your savior? Don't you want to repay me?"

He forced down a violent kiss on her then and as she squirmed to get away he only pushed her against the wall harder, his hands all over her and reaching to pull up her skirt.

"I paid a rather high price for a used slut, so I guess I ll just have to get out of you what I can," Sir Richard snarled as he put his hand over her mouth to stop her screams.

"Mary? Mary, where have you got to?" Edith cried out, hoping that by doing so Sir Richard would stop his assault on her sister.

It worked and as he released Mary he casually whispered, "I hope you take our conversation to heart. Now tidy yourself up, your guests will think we have been doing something indecent," before walking out of the room with a smile on his face.

"Good evening, Lady Edith. Are you looking for Mary? She s just in there. We ve been discussing our plans for the wedding!"

"Indeed!" Mary said with fake enthusiasm and a shake in her voice as she walked out of the room, brushing down her dress, "We have so much to plan."

Sir Richard smiled at her then, and Mary was forced to smile back, playing the part of loving fianc e as best she could.

Edith did her best to downplay her own fear and said a little too quickly, "Oh, well, we d all simply wondered where you'd gotten to. And here you are! Let s go back shall we?"

"Yes, of course," he said with no sign of guilt or apprehension on his face.

As they walked back in Matthew stared at them from his wheelchair, his eyes darting back from Sir Richard to Mary. She seemed upset while he seemed positively cheery. Something wasn t right. Besides, he didn t like them sneaking off and spending so much time alone together. The thought of which forced him to remember that they were engaged and he had no right to disapprove or feel jealous? No, he wasn t jealous. Couldn t possibly be, could it? It was just concern. That sick look on her face as though she wanted to cry or scream. He was definitely just feeling concern. The inner debate only irked him more, and so he tried to stop thinking about it altogether.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew was sitting in the library reading, there was very little else he could do for entertainment these days. He wasn t even sure what he was reading as he had only just grabbed a book randomly off the shelf. So when Edith came into the room he was extremely grateful for the diversion.

"Cousin Edith, how are you?" he said enthusiastically setting his book down.

"Oh!" she gasped, "I'm sorry I didn t see you as I came in, you rather startled me. Lost in my own thoughts I guess."

"A penny for them," Matthew asked conversationally.

"If only," Edith sighed, "but I m afraid there is no one I can talk this out with... least of all her she'd never speak honestly about it... "Edith trailed off, once again unaware of Matthew s presence and accidently telling him more than she intended.

Edith's tone and the mention of "her" put the feeling of panic in his gut.

"Edith, what are you talking about? What is wrong? I want to help and you can count on me to be discreet," Matthew words pulled her back out of her thoughts and she looked at him as a deer looks when caught in the woods by a hunting party. In her shock she let her guard down and began to confide.

"Mary is being blackmailed by Sir Richard. I'm afraid he might hurt her. I can't go to father, he doesn't know about the whole... issue" Edith said, carefully avoiding the word affair, "and I m not sure how much Mother knows, not that she could do anything. I m afraid for her, I'm afraid for the family and on top of it all I'm feeling damnably guilty because I'm the one who spread the story in the first place!"

Matthew's heart was beating fast and the sound of his own heavy breathing was rushing in his ears. This explained the last night at dinner. He had to help Mary. He couldn't let her get hurt. How could he help though? He'd need to know what she was being blackmailed for.

"Edith, what is Mary being blackmailed for?" he asked, his voice heavy with anxious concern.

She just looked at him sadly and said, "I'm sorry, but if I told you that I think Mary might actually and in all seriousness kill me. You see Matthew, when she hesitated to accept your proposal I thought the same thing you did, we all thought it was about the title and money. But now, after watching her care for you when you were hurt and seeing the way she looks at you I'm beginning to suspect that she hesitated because she was afraid to tell you. She could've just kept it to herself, of course, but while Mary is a great many things she is not inherently dishonest. I think she was afraid. So, there is no way I could possibly be the one to tell you after all these years."

"Edith!" Matthew nearly shouted, "You must! I have to know I can t help if I don t know!"

With that Edith quickly stood up and nearly ran out of the room, "I'm so sorry Matthew I really can't."

He felt frozen in time. In the months that he had been in the wheelchair this was the hardest moment for him thus far. He wanted to chase after Edith and demand the truth, but there was no way he could catch her from his chair. And if that didn t work he d run to Mary and reveal to her all the questions in his heart. Edith implied that not only had Mary loved him when he rejected her, but that she loved him still! Couldn't possibly be true, could it? And what was this scandal that was controlling her life? What could possibly be so bad as to make her think he d stop loving her? The Crawley sisters couldn't run from him forever.

Edith walked down the hall, leaving Matthew in turmoil, feeling incredibly guilty. She shouldn't have said anything at all. Then again maybe she told him just enough to force him to take control. She'd strongly hinted that Mary loved him and maybe, just maybe, knowing that would give him the power to act on his own feelings and the two of them could work everything out between them. It would be about time, after all these years of bloody angst, she thought to .


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew stared at the wall for approximately 30 minutes. Had he been more mobile he would ve been pacing frantically around the room and there might have been several new holes in the library walls, shaped strangely like his fist.

Somewhere in Edith's confusing and hesitant confession she had mentioned that Mary would never speak openly about the mysterious issue haunting her, and he agreed with that assessment. Mary was not dishonest, but neither was she forthcoming. Especially with him.

Where could he turn to find the truth, what could he possibly due to acquire it? Just as he was sitting there contemplating he heard some of the servants walk past the library door, giggling at a private joke. It struck him then... the servants! Servants know everything that goes on in the houses where they work, as they are often (sadly) treated as though they re invisible, thus allowing them to see and hear a lot of the things their employers wished to keep secret. Fate seemed to encourage this idea when suddenly Mr. Carson walked in.

"Hello Mr. Crawley, how are you doing? You've been in here for quite awhile I thought I'd see if you needed anything," he said in his extraordinarily deep voice.

"Thank you very much, but I dont require anything at the moment. I'm just..." he paused, not very practiced in the art of intrigue and manipulation," I'm just worried about Mary is all. She looked as if she were on the verge of tears for most of last evening. It's extremely discomforting because I never imagined there was anything that could make Mary cry!" he finished with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Carson seemed to tense at Matthew's words and his polite gaze turned cool.

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but Lady Mary has been known to cry on occasion," there was an unmistakable emotion in his voice, "I understand why most would imagine otherwise, she intentionally presents herself to the world that way.

He paused for a moment, considering his words, "I suppose she does so because she possesses the most-tender heart of all and in her effort to protect it she can seem to some quite emotionless. I have seen Lady Mary cry, Mr. Crawley. I've even seen her sob. For example, at a garden party several years ago something quite upset her and to be perfectly honest she's been crying to herself ever since."

Mr. Carson finished his speech, looking pointedly into Matthews eyes, his meaning made perfectly clear.

"Now if you're certain there is nothing you need then I shall seek to be of use somewhere else. Good day Mr. Crawley," and with that Mr. Carson gave a dignified nod of his head and left the room, leaving Matthew to the silence once again.

He felt terribly guilty. All those years ago he had misinterpreted the facts and missed something essential. After Mr. Carson's monologue he had no doubts that Mary loved him, had always loved him. What had he done? He hadn't wanted to admit it after all these years, especially when he had been engaged to Lavinia, but he certainly still felt something for Mary. He'd been telling himself it was nothing, but that was getting harder to deny. It was like an electric pulse at every mention of her, every sight of her.

And when she had nursed him there had been incredible tenderness and trust, something he'd never expected to experience with Mary, no matter how much he'd hoped for it whilst he'd been pining for her. When he'd returned from France he'd been incredibly ill and she never once held back in her care for him or hesitated. He'd been sick quite often, needed help going to the bathroom and, though he luckily didn't remember it, he was told that she'd help cut him out of his clothes and clean his body. The irony of her actions had struck him at the time, but only now did the significance as well. Lady Mary, who didn't even dress herself in the morning, had held the pan for him while he vomited. That kind of care was beyond friendship. How obvious it all seemed now!

She loved him! And he saw no point in denying that he loved her as well. They could be together, at last! His heart swelled with joy and the biggest smile he'd worn since he'd been stranded in a wheelchair, before that even, broke out onto his face.

It all came back to him then.

Mary had loved him all this time, but she felt so ashamed of something in her past that it prevented her from accepting him. He wanted to think that no matter what it was he'd love her all the same. But what if Mary's fears were justified and her past transgressions really did affect the way he felt about her.

His joy turned to fear. He didn't want to know, but he had to. If he was going to try and free Mary from Sir Richard he had to know... and he desperately wished it wasn't so.


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed to Mary that Matthew was avoiding talking to her. And looking at her. And having anything to do with her. They'd been getting along so well recently and she couldn't understand why every time he accidently met her gaze or was forced to address her in anyway it was suddenly so awkward, the air between them bristling with tension.

She'd given up hope a long time ago that they could ever be together as it was made brutally clear the moment that he brought Lavinia to Downton Abbey that he was no longer in love with her, nor would he ever be again. She'd accepted this reality and instead took solace in their friendship and by doing whatever she could to make him happy. When that meant encouraging him and Lavinia she did so without hesitation, but certainly with quite a bit of suppressed emotional pain.

So in regard to Matthew's distant behavior with her tonight she was unsure whether it saddened her or made her angry. Her week had been dreadful enough, thank you very much. First an attempted rape, a successful blackmail and now the most important person to her was refusing to look her in the eyes. In light of all that had occurred recently she was definitely feeling more inclined towards rage than saddness.

The night wore on slowly. Granny and Cousin Isobel bickered, Sybil chatted pleasantly about her work, the same story of any other Crawley family dinner. The tension between Mary and Matthew was palpable only to Edith, who knew the reasons behind it better than both of them. As everyone began saying their goodnights and filing out of the room Edith caught Matthew's eye and flicked her gaze in Mary's direction indicating that he should speak with her. His eyes widened in fear which Edith returned with a look of exasperation before rushing out of the room, cutting Mary off at the door giving him and Mary a chance to speak with privacy.

"Mary," Matthew said, his voice a tad bit higher than usual, "will you stay for a moment? I'm not quite ready to end the evening and I could use some company."

She stared at him blankly in confusion for a few seconds before answering, "I suppose," her frustration clear in her tone.

"Ahhh... how are you," he began awkwardly, "How are things with your fiancée? You seemed upset last night when he visited."

She had been closely observing the floor, but at his words her eyes darted up quickly her expression one mixed of anger and fear.

She put on her best fake smile and said, "Everything is splendid, what makes you think it isn't."

Mary's ability to hide her emotions must've been worn down by the trauma of wartime, because it was clear to Matthew that she was lying. Or perhaps he just knew her too well after all these years.

"Don't lie to me Mary," he said, his gaze penetrating Her pretend smile melted off her face and she fearfully wondered how much he knew, but before she could seriously contemplate on it he continued, "Don't play games with me, I don't deserve it. Not from you."

A single tear streamed down her cheek at those haunting words and she began to shake her head, as if so no to the reality that this conversation was finally happening.


	5. Chapter 5

She stood up suddenly and fled to the other side of the room, her back turned towards Matthew so that she could wipe away her tears and compose herself. When she turned around she was calm again and said with a business-like severity, "How much do you know?"

Matthew contemplated this briefly, never taking his stare off her, afraid that if he looked away she'd run out of the room. How much_ did_ he know? He wasn't sure. He knew that she was being blackmailed. He knew that she loved him... Matthew decided to answer ambiguously so that she might reveal more.

"Enough," he said simply.

Her eyes widened in fear for a split second before they narrowed and she said, "I'm going to need a more specific answer than that, Matthew."

He sighed in exasperation. What was he thinking trying to serve Mary a bluff? Of course she was going to see right through it.

"I know that you are being blackmailed by Sir Richard. And I know that... that you were not entirely honest with me when you resisted accepting my proposal."

She was relieved and it showed in her changing expression. He didn't seem to know about Mr. Pamuk. Or he just wasn't saying anything about it.

"Wait, what do you mean I was dishonest with you?" she asked with an edge in her voice.

"Your hesitance to accept me had nothing to do with the money or title," he said matter-of-factly.

Mary couldn't help rolling her eyes and throwing her hands in the air, "Of course it didn't!"

Matthew was shocked by her anger and began to protest, but she interrupted him.

"I spent months hesitating before your future as Earl was ever called into question and it is only occurring to you NOW that there may have been a different reason for it?" she was nearly shouting, "Never mind that I tried telling you that your position meant nothing to me, but you wouldn't listen! You'd already made up your mind that I was greedy and shallow!"

"Then why didn't you just tell me the truth?" his eyes on fire as he tried to refrain from shouting, "I'm sorry for assuming your motives, but what would you have had me think? If you had been honest with me form the beginning I would never have been put in the position of having to doubt you! So, why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"How could I tell you! I was terrified!" she said, her voice sounding as if it was caught between a scream and a whisper, "I'd rather you believe that I was greedy and shallow than know the truth of my character."

"What, Mary! What were- what are you so terrified of?" he asked, almost pleading, "What is this black stain on your character?"

"Terrified of watching your love for me turn to disgust," she said, suddenly more settled. He was going to find out, that was inevitable she could see that now. It was best that he get the truth from her and she was going to try and do this with as much dignity as possible.

"Mary..." he began.

"Matthew," she interrupted, "you are probably the most honest and genuinely honorable man I have ever known."

Her tears returned, but she ignored them as they fell down her face.

"I have a hard time believing that you would still want a bride after finding out that she had been used," her arms fell to her sides then in surrender and she looked at him with a hopeless expression, resigned to her fate and ready for the worst.

Matthew didn't know what he had expected, but this wasn't it. He could only stare blankly in front of him for what seemed like an eternity before he finally said, "When? _Who?_" He didn't turn to look at her.

"Mr. Pamuk, the Turkish diplomat who visited several years ago," she said with her voice shaking.

Only then did he look up at her to see that she was clutching the back of the couch so tightly that it seemed it was the only thing keeping her standing.

"Sit down Mary, you look like you're going to faint," Matthew said, not un-kindly.

She did so down quietly, staring at her hands and wishing desperately to be anywhere else because the was convinced their was not enough air in this room.

They sat in silence for several moments, each refusing to look at the other except for in quick, secret glances. It was Matthew who finally spoke.

"I don't want to know the details, Mary, not right now at least. Maybe later, but right now... right now it would be too much," he said.

Mary could only nod.

"Let's go to bed. I need to think and you look like you could use some rest," Matthew offered.

She said nothing, only stood up and began crossing the room to leave.

He could see that she was suffering and he pitied her, no matter her mistakes she didn't deserve the pain she was clearly in.

"Mary, wait," Matthew said. She turned around and for the first time since she had made her confession they looked each other in the eyes.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

"I do not hate you and I certainly do not think you are disgusting. Please do not think that. I'm just shocked and need some time to process. I promise," emphasizing the _promise. _

Mary had to smile, a small sad smile.

"Thank you," she said before walking out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the strangest thing- Matthew was standing. The sensation was simultaneously familiar, yet horrifyingly distant. He's been in that chair a long time, but here he was. Standing again, at last!

He walked to the window and looked out on the world of Downton Abbey. The sun was shining and he could see a gentle breeze rustling the distant trees. He put his hand on the glass, like a child looking into a toyshop, he could feel the warmth of the day radiating through. That briefly struck him as odd, since last he recalled there had been a pre-winter chill hanging over Yorkshire. It was put out of his mind when he spotted a young woman walking across the yard. A willowy woman with a black cloud of hair. Mary.

The run down the stairs (he was running!) and across the lawn went by in a blur, it seemed less than seconds before he was walking up to Mary, who seemed to not notice him approaching. She was wearing a dark red evening dress he'd frequently seen her wear during his first couple of years living near Downton. Matthew never thought to question that Mary was in a dinner dress while outside in the middle of the day, with the sun still high in the sky. He felt an overwhelming love for her, as if nothing ill had ever passed between them. The garden party had never happened. He stood still for a moment, just watching her as she stood there unguarded, for once not forcing control over her own emotions. He'd never seen her wear such an expression before, as though she were unsure if she was gloriously happy or tragically miserable.

Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, the Turkish diplomat named Mr. Pamuk walked up to Mary, pushed her hair away and leaned down to kiss her neck. She didn't react to his embrace, but the drop in Matthew's heart felt similar to the shock of adrenalin he felt his first night on the front, the shells falling like rain all around him. He thought he was going to die then and he thought the same now.

"Mary!" Matthew's shout echoed across the yard, though he hadn't felt his mouth move and there seemed to be no air in his lungs. She turned suddenly to look at him, shock and surprise in her eyes.

"Matthew? Matthew, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?" she asked quietly and clearly concerned.

"Mary," Matthew sputtered, "You must stop this, it will ruin everything, " his voice full of emotion as if he was holding back sobs and shouts.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked, one eyebrow slightly cocked in a quizzical expression.

"With Mr. Pamuk!" he gestured angrily towards the man still nuzzling her neck, his voice breaking off in frustration and he spun around and yelled nonsensically into the sky.

"Matthew," Mary said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. He hesitantly turned around to see the scene had changed. She wasn't wearing that red dress after all, he must've been mistaken, because now she was wearing a simple blue cotton frock.

"Matthew," she said again, "There's no one here. It's just us."

He stared into her eyes desperately, as if asking her a question, asking her "is it true?" Mary stared back unflinching, saying back to him with her gaze

"I promise, I swear, it is just us. It always has been and it always will be." He seemed to understand her meaning and his face flooded with relief.

Without a second more hesitation he kissed her. As she kissed him back it seemed to him that all the tension built up between them over these long years, all the hurt and longing was released in their passion. Matthew's hands were on her neck and her lower back, trying to pull her into him, desperate for them to become one entity, Mary, in turn, was pulling her body into his with equal desire, her hands buried in his hair. His body responded in a way it hadn't for months, in a way he never expected it to again, except the need he felt now was greater than anything he'd felt before and beyond all of his expectations. Their clothes seemed to magically disappear, their bodies writhing in the cool, soft grass. Matthew felt as if Mary's hands were exploring every inch of his body at once, exhilarating him to no end. He felt he could disappear into the never-ending softness of her milky white skin. Her body reached up to meet his every touch and her nipples were hard, begging for his mouth to suck and bite them.

As Matthew slowly began to enter Mary their world came to a stand-still and they could only stare into each other's eyes until finally Matthew gave a firm thrust to enter her fully, making her tilt her head back and moan. As their slow, sensual lovemaking continued Matthew buried his face in the dark mess of Mary's hair. She whispered, "I love you," is desperate gasps of pleasure.

And then Matthew woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been several weeks since the dream. He'd known the moment that he'd woken that he'd be able to walk again; he could feel his legs and his… well, nevermind. It'd had taken quite awhile to build up enough strength to surprise the family by standing to greet them one evening at dinner.

Mary was so happy for him she cried; softly and quietly, like a lady, of course. She gave him a gentle squeeze and whispered, "Congratulations! Lavinia will be so happy to hear the news." After which she left the room, seemingly disappearing. Much like a spirit fading. It made Matthew feel panicked, especially since Mary had maintained an aloof attitude towards him ever since.

She was right, naturally, Lavinia deserved to be informed. She came to Yorkshire on the very first train, assuming that her future with Matthew was once again on a happy path. Even Matthew, for a time, felt the engagement should go on. With Mary so distant and still engaged to Sir Richard, he tried his best to put her confession and his dream out of his mind. Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd dreampt about Mary that way, but no other dream had ever felt so real nor had so much emotion attached to it.

…But when Lavinia arrived he found that he could no longer pretend. When he held her it felt like a lie. In all the time that had passed since the charity concert Matthew had felt torn between Mary and Lavinia, a rift in his heart that had only been growing. He loved Lavinia, truly he did, but it was a second-best kind of a love. Like a shoe that is your size, but never seems to fit quite right. In the midst of the confusion brought on by his injury Matthew had been able to find some clarity. He realized that while he felt honor bound to Lavinia, he felt more strongly a duty to his heart and therefore to Mary.

He let Lavinia down as gently as possible, trying to make sure she didn't suspect he had feelings for another. But she knew, of course she knew. He could see it in her eyes that she did. It was a sad conversation, but Lavinia was too good-natured to be bitter and she left the next morning just as quietly as she came. The family said nothing and neither did the staff—it was though her visit had never happened at all.

Mary didn't question his decision to turn away Lavinia, but their friendship failed to return to how it had been before. All that had been left unsaid, all the fear and love, not expressed made it barely possible for them to look each other in the eye, yet alone carry on a meaningful conversation. However, with Christmas season approaching and Sir Richard making plans to return to Downton Matthew felt his tension rising to a climax and his need to take action stirring.


	8. Chapter 8

Sir Richard's cruelty appeared to know no bounds. He was continually cornering her, grabbing her… and every time his hands and mouth roamed more freely, against Mary's not-so-secret will. She felt her self-control and patience with him slipping, and with it slipped shards of her sanity. Before, she had been resigned to her miserable future with such a miserable man—what choice did she have? Better to wither away at Haxby than maintain her painful proximity to Matthew. No matter the situation, it seemed she could never be with him. First because he thought she was only after his position, and then there was sweet Lavinia, who was too good to hate. It was as if they were cursed.

Now Mary was convinced that even if she could free herself from Sir Richard without raining scandal down on her family that Matthew wouldn't want her. The look in his eyes when she had confessed about her indecency with Kemal… the memory of it haunted her. His expression showed all the grief of someone suffering from the death of a loved one, and perhaps that was how he saw it. She tried to believe him when he said he didn't hate her, or find her disgusting. Mary felt that if she could at least believe that Matthew still at least looked on her with kindness then she could survive any living hell Sir Richard would provide. But no matter how she tried to trust in Matthew's compassion, her own self-doubt seemed to win out.

Without intending to she found herself avoiding him- too afraid to see that look in his eyes again. Best to get used to living without him now, she couldn't put off her impending marriage forever. It was on such thoughts that Lady Mary was dwelling when Matthew surprised her by suddenly pulling her aside one evening.

"You don't have to marry him, you know," he said with forceful emotion.

She was startled by this abrupt plea from Matthew. They had barely been able to exchange pleasantries about the weather since the night he had forced a confession from her.

"You're wrong. I do have to marry him," she insisted, trying to end this conversation as quickly as possible. She tried to turn on her heel and scurry away from him, but he gently grabbed her by the arm and wheeled her around so that they were in a secluded corner, Mary pinned against the fine stonewall.

"Matthew! Wha—what are you doing, let me go," she passionately whispered as she struggled against him.

He tenderly cupped her hands in her face and pinned his body against hers, so that she could escape neither his gaze nor his presence, and said, "No, Mary." Calmly he continued, "It is important that you understand that you will always have a home at Downton Abbey, so long as I am here. I can see in your expression and in the way you carry yourself when he is here that you are made miserable by him. It isn't worth it, Mary. Everyone here loves you enough to withstand a month's worth of ridicule from the press in order to save you from a lifetime of abuse."

She just stared into his eyes for a moment, not breathing and neither of them daring to move. After an age she whispered, "_Everyone _loves me?"

Matthew muttered back with his lips so close they brushing hers, "Everyone."

Mary's legs trembled.


End file.
